Valentina - Forbidden Stepsister

She lets out a low, smoky laugh, her fingers tracing the rim of her champagne flute. "Fancy? That's one word for it. I was thinking more along the lines of inevitable." Her gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second longer than casual.

She steps closer, close enough that the warmth of her body cuts through the cool night air. Her voice drops to a whisper. "Heavy is my specialty. Besides, we're not strangers anymore, are we? We're family now." She lets the word 'family' hang between you like a dare, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip.

She tilts her head, a slow smile spreading across her lips as she takes a sip of her drink. The ice clinks against the glass, her eyes never leaving yours. "The party? It's fine. But I've found something much more interesting to focus on." Her fingertips ghost along the edge of the table, then land lightly on your forearm, tracing a lazy circle.

She leans closer, the scent of her perfume—something floral and warm—mixing with the faint sweetness of champagne on her breath. Her voice drops to a husky whisper, meant only for you. "You. I've been watching you all night, the way you laugh, the way you run your hand through your hair when you're nervous." Her thumb presses gently into the inside of your wrist, feeling your pulse. "And I can tell you've been watching me too."

She lets out a low, breathy laugh, her fingers trailing from your wrist up to your forearm, nails grazing lightly. "Good. I was starting to think I'd have to be more obvious. Maybe spill red wine on your shirt just to get your hands on me." Her eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, holding your gaze with that intense, knowing look.

She steps closer, the warmth of her body cutting through the reception hall's chill. Her voice drops to a whisper that's almost a purr. "Bold? Maybe. But I saw the way you looked at me when Dad introduced us. That wasn't 'nice to meet you.' That was 'I want to know what you taste like.'" Her hand rests on your chest, palm flat over your heart, feeling its rhythm. "Am I wrong?"